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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471597">See You Never</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherry_CS/pseuds/Sherry_CS'>Sherry_CS</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>See [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Reality, Asami/Aki fans heed warning before reading, Dreams, M/M, OOC Akihito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:00:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherry_CS/pseuds/Sherry_CS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The memory of Hong Kong was never far from Akihito’s mind. </p><p>WARNING: Asami/Aki fans think twice before reading. They have sex but probably not in the ways you want.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito, Takaba Akihito/Liu Fei Long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>See [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>See You Never</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I close my eyes. The prospect of seeing you again in the Dark Theatre of the Un-mind makes my heart tremor with joy and terror. In dream as in reality, your Beauty bruises me. </p><p>For six days now I’ve dreamt of you. Vividly. Extensively. I never knew dreams could feel like skin. </p><p>Not all of them were erotic. Though I admit, a few times (I’m not going to say how many), I woke up realising I had to wash my sheets. No, they were memories. Lives I might have known. Stories I might have lived. Journeys down my private Mulholland Drive. It makes me sad almost that these dreams shall never come true. </p><p>One time, you were in those voluptuous silks of yours. Bottomless black, stark white, with winter cherry designs on them, they were endless like the space tunnel and smothering like snakes. I clawed my way down their poisonous spiral, my legs heavy like lead, toward you, you who were buried underneath like the Ocean’s Heart but somehow ascending like the naked moon. Your skin glistened like grapes under the morning rain. Your misty eyes, your cherry-red lips... Even in my dream I knew where I got that image. That one time, that first time I... I pretended I didn’t want it, but I did. I did! I wanted you like I never wanted anything else. Your skin, your blood, your taste in my mouth, your moist breath, your suppressed moans, all your frustration and stubbornness and your cruelty — God your cruelty — I swallowed it like the finest honey.  And you pretended to not have seen it, my change, my want, my burgeoning desire. </p><p>Another time — I blush at the admission — you were a girl. I had you under me, you looked back at me with those same misty eyes. You threw your hair back like a banner, it entangled my hand like it had a life of its own. Your skin felt like cream. I couldn’t stop touching you. I traced your cheeks, your temples, your lips, the side of your neck, your pink shoulder, your sweaty breasts (soft and full and youthful like the morning dew), your curvy waist... I put my palm on your belly and you purred from the pleasure. You smelt like a sea of roses. I dipped my hand lower. Your eyes glazed over and you licked your lips. You murmured something. I was so carried away I didn’t hear it. My hand moved lower still and touched something unexpected. I woke up.</p><p>Oh but there were nightmares too. Your eyes burning like ghost fires, cold and piercing like blades in a purple rain. Your face soaked in blood. Your hair dirty streaks of gore and rain. Or you would appear out of nowhere, everybody would ask me who you are, you wouldn’t say a word, you would just stare at me, wearing that mystic smile of yours. And I would sweat, I would come up with the stupidest lie I could think of and before I knew it, everybody was pointing fingers at me and calling me names like... like they did so long ago. So long ago I almost forgot it. </p><p>It was starting to bother me. </p><p>For one thing, it was no use hiding it from <em>him</em>. This is one of those times where I wish I still lived in that run-down place of mine in the suburbs. Two hours’ train ride is better than having to lie to the most accomplished liar in probably the entire history of lying. </p><p>“Did you have a nightmare?”</p><p>I tell you, you do not want to wake up at 4 am to <em>those</em> scrutinising eyes. </p><p>“Y..yeah, I did,” I rubbed my eyes and muttered, “did I scream?”</p><p>“No, you did not,” those eyes continued to search me like the fucking X-ray, “you did wet the sheets though... in a sort.”</p><p>He pulled off our cover. I looked down, and saw that I was hard, pre-come staining the sheet underneath. I blushed immediately. If he knew... if he knew...!</p><p>“I know you liked those horror movies, I didn’t know you liked’em so much.”</p><p>In the dark, I couldn’t make out his features but I had a feeling he was smirking. “It was... it was not that... before it became a nightmare, I dreamed of you.” I lied, hiding my face in the dark. </p><p>“And how did that become a nightmare?” He pinched my chin, turning my face back, stroking away the sweaty strands on my forehead. He was deceptively tender. </p><p>“How... how would I know? Do I look like a psychiatrist to you?” I retorted, knowing this to be the sure way to end this conversation. </p><p>“You <em>know</em> that is no way to talk,” he moved closer, looming over me, “and where did you learn that word?” </p><p>He never expected an answer though, as he covered my mouth soon after that. </p><p><br/>
I writhed under him like a worm was eating me out from the inside out. I flushed my hips to meet his thrusts like I couldn’t get enough. I closed my eyes, hot tears streaming down my face, flowing into my panting mouth. I crossed my arms, grabbing the headboard, making it go click-clack. He wrung them back, gripping me by the wrists, arching my back like it was a bow. I screamed. I praised his thrusts, his bruises, his slaps, crying harder’s and yes’s and please’s like they were free. And he satisfied my every demand. Yet, I closed my eyes, and I thought of... your face. Your face as you came, that little shriek escaping your clenched teeth, your hair brushing my back as you took me from behind, your soft breathing upon my neck, your long graceful fingers digging into my skin... And I came. I came before I knew it, before you even hit home, before you...</p><p>Wait, who? Who am I fucking right now? Why am I making these moans? Why am I thrashing my head like that, dancing like bonito flakes on a hot dish? Who am <em>I</em> right now?</p><p>He flipped me over. “Open your eyes.” He commanded. I obeyed. “Who were you thinking?” “I... I did not... AAAAH!” As usual, he was hot on questions, not so much on answers.</p><p>He left early that same morning. I left not much later, departing for a job that would take me away from Tokyo for at least a few days, a job I specifically requested for. Maybe being away from it all would clear my head a little. Maybe then the dreams would stop. </p><p>Problem is, they did not. </p><p>The other day, I ran into Takamura in the street. I was coming back from work as he was going to work. Takamura is an old friend from those wild teenage days, one of those people you think of from time to time but wish you’d never meet. Seeing him dressed in a regular salaryman’s suit made my mind stop for a few seconds. </p><p>“Takaba? Takaba Akihito?” He greeted me first. “It’s Takaba isn’t it? You haven’t changed at all!”</p><p>I don’t know if that was a relief or not. </p><p>I walked up to him. “Hey, Takamura! Haven’t seen you in ages!”</p><p>“Yeah, I did move a lot these years. Hey, I gotta hurry to work. Shall we catch up a little tonight? Say 20:00? I know a good place. I’ll have to come meet you after I drink with my superiors though.” He gave a dry laugh at that. </p><p>Even after we exchanged information and I had walked on a few blocks, it still felt like a dream. That life I left behind, that other me that felt like another person entirely... it all just came back, like <em>that</em>. Everything feels like a dream these days. </p><p>Takamura sat next to me. I ordered two whiskeys. “Hey, that’s expensive stuff.” He mumbled drunkenly. “Don’t worry. It’s on me.” “You making good money?” “Not exactly. But you always took good care of me when we were little.” He laughed. “Cute little Akihito. How on earth did you get mixed up with our sorts?” He snorted a sarcastic smile and downed the remainder of his highball in one go, slowly transforming into the Takamura I knew. </p><p>“My father left and I was feeling angry, remember?” I said lightly. He didn’t even hear it. Our whiskeys came. </p><p>I tasted the good stuff and all of a sudden I was asking him, “hey, what does it mean if you keep dreaming of someone?”</p><p>He stared at me, trying to focus. He seemed to be hard at thinking for a few minutes, only to end up bursting out laughing. “What do I know? You’re asking the wrong person. I hardly dream these days. Back home it’s straight to bed and oops it’s morning again. Salarymen don’t dream.” He dropped that line and swallowed his whiskey like it was water. </p><p>“You’re drinking too fast, Takamura.”</p><p>“Hey don’t you tell me how to drink! You don’t... you are not... you’re the one who went to Tokyo and made a life for yourself! You... you have a life!”</p><p>“Not so much but thank you.”</p><p>“We all went to juvie together and only you...”</p><p>“Takamura, you gotta lower your voice...”</p><p>“NO I WILL NOT!”</p><p>We got thrown out not long after that. </p><p>Out in the street, sharing a cigarette in the back alley, after Takamura had happily emptied his stomach, he asked me, “so what kind of person is it, this person you keep dreaming of?”</p><p>I inhaled the nicotine. Poison never felt so good. “Very beautiful.” I supplied, and we both laughed at the stupidity of it. We laughed hard and long, like two drunkards ought to laugh. He slapped my back. “Damn right! You go find her, Takaba Akihito my man. You go find her right fucking now! Here, take my phone...”</p><p>“I have a phone you silly ass.”</p><p>“No, take my phone, call her from an unknown number...”</p><p>“Oh yeah, so she would panick and call the police?”</p><p>“No no no that’s not the plan... the plan...”</p><p>He went on. I couldn’t hear a word after that. Call him? Is it simple like that? No. It is simple, but not like that. I will stop thinking of him. That’s it. I will just have to stop thinking of him. </p><p>Seven is a magical number. God created the world in seven days. In Chinese legends, the Goddess Nuwa created the first human after seventy tries. The Egyptians mapped seven paths to heaven, and the Islamic Hell has seven gates. Maybe after tonight, the cycle will be over. I would stain my sheets again but on the eighth day, he would be flushed out of my system. </p><p>Because I never liked him. Because I never cared for him. Because I vowed to myself I’d never see him again. Because I’d kept good to that promise. Because surely I do not have feelings for him. It’s only natural to want to feel my skin upon his, to want to bury and be buried, to imagine his godly face in the throes of passion... isn’t it? Everybody does, don’t they?</p><p>Because with us, it’s see you never. </p><p>See you never. </p><p>See you... now.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I read in a special character background extra in Sensei’s character book that Akihito did something really bad in his younger days, so bad she’d prefer to leave it alone. So I devised from there. It’s interesting that Takaba Akihito has a history, that there’s more than meets the eye.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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